Page 146 of A Pact of Blood

The intensity in his expression sends a wobble through my veins. Gone is the nonchalant front with the trace of an edge. I have the impression he’s grappling with himself, but I don’t know what over.

“Women have ways of judging when their body is fertile, don’t they?” Marclinus says without preamble. “The timing of their bleeds and whatnot? I’ve overheard one or two of the ladies of the court mention it.”

I adjust my stance, needing to regain my footing. Where is he going with this line of questioning?

I offer a small smile that I hope is endearing. “There are ways. Of course we can never tell for certain whether any particular interlude will result in a child.”

Marclinus takes another step toward me. “But you can at least estimate when this child was conceived.”

He says it like a firm statement rather than a question, but it’s clear that he wants an answer. I can offer one easilyenough. “Based on the timing of my last bleed and the bodily signs I noted, I’d imagine it happened while we were at the palace by Rexoran.”

That’s the only time I was fully intimate with anyone since I last bled, so I actually know the timing for sure, not that I can reveal that fact.

The tension washes from my husband’s face with a light like the sun dawning. He crosses the last short distance to me and brings his hand to my cheek. The other rests on my waist, palm against my belly.

His voice drops to a murmur. “Good. Good. I knew— He’s simply?—”

Marclinus stops, bowing his head toward mine. At the slide of his fingers along my jaw, I lift my chin to meet his kiss. He melds his mouth to mine, tender but with a strange sense of urgency.

I don’t understand any of this, but at least he finally seems happy about the announcement.

When he draws back, I soften my own tone for my tentative questions. “What’s happened? Is something wrong?”

Marclinus inhales deeply with a hint of a tremor that startles me. I’ve never heard him sound this shaken, even when his father died in front of him.

He grasps my hand, squeezes it, and lets it go again as if he’s not sure whether the gesture is wise. With an air of resolve, he draws himself straighter. “You’ve proven yourself. You’ve earned your place in the family. You need to know.”

I knit my brow. “Know what?”

“Come here. Let’s sit together.”

Marclinus guides me over to the sofa across the room from the bed. He lets me sit next to him with a little space between us and none of the groping he couldn’t resist in the carriage. His gaze lingers on my face, dropping briefly to my belly before returning.

He reaches across the space between us, but only to clasp my hand again with an unusual gentleness. “You’ve heard the story of my birth—that my mother died in the process and my father raised me alone.”

I nod. “But I’m sure you don’t need to worry about?—”

“That’s not what I’m getting at.” He pauses, and his eyes smolder even more fiercely. “Part of the reason my mother was in such a precarious state is she was pregnant with two children, not one.”

What?

I keep my fingers curled around his, waiting for him to explain.

As he speaks, Marclinus’s gaze doesn’t leave mine for an instant. “She died giving birth to twins. Identical twins. And my father decided that it was best for us and for the imperial line if no one ever knew there were two of us. If we lived one shared life, combining our strengths, balancing out each other’s weaknesses, and ensuring any assassination attempt could only target one of us.”

He lays the story out so matter-of-factly that it takes a moment for the absurdity of what he’s said to sink in.

My jaw goes slack. I know I’m staring at him, but I can’t stop, can’t hold back the question now blurting from my mouth. “What?”

Marclinus swipes his free hand over his face. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But it’s really very simple. Father got rid of the few people who had a chance to know when we were very young. Once we were old enough, we simply switched off regularly. He had the apartments in all the palaces renovated—there’s an additional hidden room in our apartments where we stay when the other is living our life. The wardrobe carriage when we travel is mostly a living space… It’s worked. Until now.”

I haven’t yet wrapped my head around the core of his story. “Then you—it hasn’t always been you?”

“No. My brother and I have spent about an equal amount of time with you, trading off depending on the tasks at hand. Linus is fonder of fraternizing and flirting. I do better with strategy and practical action.”

“Linus,” I repeat.

The man I thought was my husband smiles crookedly. “Yes. I’m Marc. Father thought he was very clever combining the two names so anyone speaking to us always referred to both of us, even if they didn’t know.”

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